


Dickie Dear

by orphan_account



Category: Set the Thames on Fire (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dirty Talk, M/M, Power Play, Prostitution, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dickie works harder than most at keeping The Impresario happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry! Super dirty little ficlet of Dickie and The Impresario, had to get it out of my system. I wasn't sure if I should post this but here it is. May be more later.
> 
> Warning: VERY lewd/strong language.

It's a familar sight to anyone unfortunate enough to enter The Impresario's private quarters late at night, so late that all the working girls and all the staff went to bed. All of them but Dickie. The Lovely Dickie who is bouncing in his boss' lap with the enthusiasm only he can muster.  
  
"Ohh- Oh- oh Impresario!!" "Shut up, you pervert! I hear one more noise out of you, I'm grabbing you by your fucking pigtails and I'm chucking you into the Thames! Let the eels have you."  
  
"You're having me so good- so good... oh, Impresario!"  
  
"Are you deaf, you useless slut?!"  
  
"Fuck me deeper... deeper, fuck me insides to mush- fuck- fuck-"  
  
"Quiet, Dickie!" He covers Dickie's painted mouth with his grubby hands to prevent any more squealing and fucks him harder... ah, these days he can only get hard half the time with the girls but with Dickie? Always, without failure.  
  
That pisses him off. He's not a bloody sodomite. He's had more girls than anyone else in what's left of London and here he is, fucking his useless coked up assistant in his fat arse yet again, making those stupid pigtails bounce and apparently fucking him so good the younger male very nearly bites his hand.  
  
"I swear to God, Dickie, if you even think of biting me!"  
  
"Yes- yes Impresario, 'm fucking sorry... oh- oh... harder, please Impresario!" Dickie bites down on his own bottom lip instead, hard enough to taste blood along with the lipstick.  
  
Dickie finishes before he does and after the Impresario spills inside him, he pushes him off and buttons his trousers, using a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty brow.  
  
His assistant is grinning at him from where he's seated on the floor, out of breath, his chest moving up and down and making his dress fit even tighter, those large, oddly childlike blue eyes looking up at him like he's the world.  
  
The Impresario supposes he is. Giving ol' Dickie a poke is just a form of charity, noblesse oblige and all that.  
  
He grins, baring stained teeth. "You did good, Dickie Dear."  
  
Dickie ducks his head with a nervous, breathy giggle. "No one fucks Dickie like you, Impresario."  
  
"You'd know, you little whore. Tell me how many customers you've had today..."


End file.
